


Setting the Scene

by lesbrarians



Series: Dorks and Disasters [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarians/pseuds/lesbrarians
Summary: Graduate students Zan and Vitari, a gith and a tiefling respectively, are taking their first "Comparative Studies of Thaumaturgy and Prestidigitation" class at Padronia University, but little do they know that trouble is afoot...





	Setting the Scene

"Another semester, another mind-numbing course..." Zan mumbled. She popped a chocolate-covered espresso bean in her mouth and crunched down on it. She would need all the caffeine she could get if she was going to stay awake through this class, which, if memory served (and perhaps it didn't -- she had an extraordinarily shitty memory, after all), was excruciatingly boring.

"You could try to look a little more excited," Vitari admonished her as the two of them shuffled into the spacious lecture hall and looked for two open seats next to each other. They made for quite the odd couple, walking into class together: a lanky, sallow gith with a black mohawk that trailed off into a ratty braid, and her shorter tiefling companion with her kempt crown brain and thick, nerdy glasses. "This is _Comparative Studies of Thaumaturgy and Prestidigitation_ \-- this is _exciting!_ " Her eyes positively sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Meh. I've taken it twice before." The lecture hall was already teeming with graduate students. Zan's preferred location was the back of the room, far from the probing questions of professors desperate for audience participation and their offended expressions when she nodded off in the middle of their hopelessly boring lectures. Unfortunately, the only two open seats were the wrong size: a small, gnome-sized desk next to one meant for an orc. "You kind of lose your excitement over thaumaturgical energy after that."

They ended up in the front row. "This is... the exact opposite of where I wanted to be," Zan intoned. She closed her eyes and leaned forward until the brim of her wizard's hat, which she had oh-so-stylishly decoupaged with magazine clippings of attractive women in fashionable outfits, bumped against the desk.

"Oh, I don't mind it!" Vitari said earnestly. Zan cracked an eye open and turned her head to stare at her. Vitti's enthusiasm for learning mystified her. She supposed that once upon a time, she had been just as passionate about magic. She genuinely could not remember. Zan had been enrolled in Padronia University for going on six years and was barely halfway through her four-year Master's of Arcane Arts. Six years was a lifetime ago. Thinking back on her first year in the program was like trying to extract memories from a thick sludge; she was slow to recall anything, and when she did, the details were all muddled. 

Whatever. She must have been passionate at some point. A rigorous academic commitment spanning the course of several years was not a spur-of-the-moment decision made by someone with no interest in wizardry.

"After all," Vitari was saying, "This is the ideal location for a lecture. You're in earshot of the professor in case of equipment failure, you have a clear line of sight to all presentation material, and the professor can easily spot you if you have any questions or wish to participate."

"Mmm. Sounds like hell." 

Vitari opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by their professor’s arrival. 

A tall, young, and rather handsome elf (at least, if the giggling whispers of the other students were to be believed -- Zan personally thought he looked as bland as a soggy piece of bread. She didn't understand how people could find men attractive) swept past the front row and up to the podium. 

“Welcome, class, to _Comparative Studies of Thaumaturgy and Prestidigitation_. I am Dr. Elroan. I hope you will all find this an intellectually stimulating course. Now I understand that this is a full lecture, but attendance is mandatory." He withdrew a sheaf of paper from his briefcase and uncapped a pen. "You all know the drill. When I call your name, if there is another name you prefer to go by, speak then or forever hold your peace."

Zan cracked her neck and popped every one of her bony, yellow knuckles while waiting for the professor to reach the 'M's. She dreaded every second, until finally-- yup, there it was--

"Piss... Piss-zan Magdiris?" There were a few guilty titters scattered throughout the room. People never really grew up. 

Zan glowered at him intensely for several long seconds as he searched the room, oblivious to her laser glare. "Pisszan?" he called out.

Zan exhaled, the fire draining out of her in one long breath. She didn't have the energy to stay mad for long. She wearily raised a hand. "Zan's fine."

Elroan made a note next to her name and continued to the next 'M' name on the list.

"Vitari…" He squinted at the long name that followed, and Zan wanted to make a cutting remark about his elf eyes failing him. "Mel-- Melta-- Meltor--"

Vitti was too polite to interrupt a professor, or else too shy, because she patiently let him continue stumbling over her name.

Zan yawned. "Meltuarorraath."

"Ah, yes, thank you, Pi-- Zan."

One of the inky black freckles on Zan's temple jumped as a vein throbbed. _Speak then or forever hold your peace_ , her ass. 

"Excellent," Elroan said once he finished attendance. "I trust that you've all received the syllabus in your email and done the first reading for today?" It was a rhetorical question.

Vitari nodded enthusiastically. Next to her, Zan nodded, then seamlessly turned the bob of her head into a negatory shake. 

If the professor noticed, he didn't care. "Good," he said, plowing on with the assumption that those who had failed to prepare were intelligent enough to keep up with him regardless. "We have a long semester ahead of us, so we're going to dive right in, okay?" He clicked a pointer, and diagrams glowed to life on the giant electronic screen at the front of the lecture hall. "Now, in order to compare and contrast the similar but inherently different fields of thaumaturgy and prestidigitation, we must begin with a definition of thaumaturgy--"

Zan reached into her pocket and pulled out her bag of chocolate covered espresso beans. The cellophane crinkled loudly, and for the briefest of moments, the professor was thrown off. Not to be deterred, he continued with his lecture.

"--as you no doubt recollect from your reading, a single instance of transmutation can produce a variety of extraordinarily different minor magical effects often dubbed 'wonders'--"

Zan noisily rooted around in the bag for the perfect bean until she was satisfied that she had one with the appropriate ratio of chocolate to espresso. 

She had tuned out the specifics of Elroan's words entirely, but their sudden iciness gave her pause. She looked up to find the professor making direct eye contact with her. "I gather that some people have _not_ done the readings attached to my initial email. Zan, what is rule number one on my syllabus?"

She gave a noncommittal grunt. 

"Can someone tell Zan, what is the first thing I ask of people attending my lectures?" No one leapt at the chance to answer him. Zan suspected she was not the only person who did not look at the syllabus. 

Next to her, Vitari's fingers twitched, and Zan's eyes slid over to her. She was clearly torn between two opposing factors: her desire to be an engaged student, and her loyalty to her friend. 

The gesture did not go unnoticed. "Vitari?"

Vitti hesitated as she looked at the gith sitting stone-still next to her. "Um. I believe it was, 'Don't eat food during lectures.' Sorry, Zan," she added, sotto voce.

Zan waved away the tiefling's wince and pocketed her espresso beans. Fine. _Fine._ But the professor absolutely could _not_ blame her if she fell asleep without her source of caffeine. 

—

On the other side of campus, an aasimar locked her bedroom door. The celestial human was alone in the apartment, but still, she valued her privacy. 

Bronwyn Icaria slid open the top drawer of her dresser, zeroing in on a delicate, lacy pair of socks that she never wore. From the bundle, she removed a tiny silk bag and weighed it in the palm of her hand. The crisp white of the cloth stood in stark relief against the unearthly golden glow of her rich tawny skin. 

She sat down at her vanity and tipped the bag’s contents into a neat little pile: toenail clippings from her roommate’s claws (because oh, the girl had no shame — she shuffled around the apartment barefoot, and when she snagged a claw in the high pile rug in their living room, she would plop down on their couch and trim them right there) and the pièce de résistance: a lock of her hair, trimmed from that awful rattail of hers while she slept. 

The aasimar swept her own royal blue hair up into a studious bun, careful not to snag the blue, red, and yellow feathers that sprouted near her ears. Satisfied that there were no distractions to bother her, she turned to a fresh page in her notebook and wrote “Date: Friday, May 17. Time: 10:03 AM. Dissertation Notes: Observation.” Underneath that, she jotted, “Stacked with delay 8:00 AM.”

They were her personal notes — she didn’t need to clarify beyond that. When she finally wrote her doctoral dissertation on spell resistance and immunity as built up over time, she could organize her notes into something legible. For now, a few words sufficed to remind her that this morning at precisely 8 AM, she had cast two spells to induce sleep in her roommate, set on a timer so their effects would activate once her subject was safely ensconced in her classroom chair.

Bronwyn gazed into her mirror. Wetting the tip of her perfectly manicured finger with her own saliva, she drew a circle on the mirror, closed her hand over the toenail clippings and hair, focused her intent, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was no longer looking into her own glittering gold eyes, but the weary grey ones of Zan Magdiris, dull with disinterest and heavy with sleep. 

She pinched her thumb and middle finger together on the mirror's surface to zoom out slightly. She watched, eagle-eyed, as Zan's chin drooped to her chest then jerked up suddenly, startling the tiefling next to her. She was becoming more resistant. The aasimar furiously documented this, her once neat and elegant script suddenly turning into a sloppy scrawl. This was just the data she needed, and precisely why she had prepared a backup spell, which would be hitting, right about -- _now_.

Zan's head slumped sideways onto her shoulder, the crumpled point of her wizard hat poking her tiefling friend in the eye -- Vitari, if she recalled correctly, Zan had brought her over a few times under the flimsy guise of studying (well, perhaps _Vitari_ studied… she didn't believe that Zan had studied a day in her life). 

" _Zan_ ," Vitari hissed. Her eyes were wide and anxious behind those big coke bottle glasses, darting to someone or something off screen. The aasimar swiped the mirror, rotating the field of view to see the professor giving Zan a foul look as he continued his lecture. 

Vitari elbowed Zan. 

"No, don't--" Bronwyn said harshly, but her admonitions were useless. "Don't wake her up!"

Zan made a face in her sleep and shrugged Vitari off, folding her arms across her chest. 

Vitari nudged her again. "Zan, you have to wake up," she whispered. 

Something, either the sound of Vitari's voice, or the repeated jabs of her elbow, got through to Zan, and the spell was broken. 

"No!" Bronwyn groaned as Zan roused herself from her slumber and straightened herself out with a half-muttered, vaguely ungrateful _thanks, I suppose_. 

She closed the scrying portal. All of her hard work that day was for naught -- she couldn't use any of this data. She needed to time how long it took Zan to naturally wake up from the sleep spell. The gith had been the perfect subject: an antisocial loner with no friends that Bronwyn was aware of, so no one would disturb her when she inevitably nodded off in the middle of her classes. Now she _had a friend_ , one who would gamely interrupt her sleep in the name of furthering her education, and this was a variable she hadn't accounted for when she drew up her initial plans for her doctoral dissertation.

The aasimar frowned, and the feathers that dusted her shoulders poofed up. She was too far into her study to introduce a new variable. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.

Vitari needed to go. 


End file.
